


Take What You Want (and Pay for It)

by dentedsky



Category: DBSK|Tohoshinki|TVXQ
Genre: Canon Compliant, Future Fic, Language, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 15:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dentedsky/pseuds/dentedsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yunho looks after Changmin while his body mends. Changmin thinks it’s not his body that needs healing, but his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take What You Want (and Pay for It)

The starch cotton sheets are placed upon him and tucked in, neatly folded over his chest with sure hands before the mobile bed is wheeled away down the hospital corridor. Changmin looks up. “I’m afraid,” he admits. Two nurses and a doctor ignore him. Only Yunho acknowledges his pain with a clear gaze down into Changmin’s eyes.  
  
“You’ll be fine,” says Yunho.  
  
The ceiling is white and boring and racing above Yunho’s head. “I think I’m going to be sick,” retorts Changmin.  
  
Yunho waves a hand. “Nah nah nah. You’ll be fine. It’s just a bump; a little stitch and you’ll be right.”  
  
And then they take him into a surgery room, and Yunho isn’t allowed in. Through the closing door Yunho watches, until the door is closed and they’re separated.   
  
*  
  
  
Twenty years before, Changmin had a nose job.  
  
It was something the company had insisted he have and his parents insisted the company pay for. He’d been a teenager and self-conscious and stubborn. “I want it,” he’d told his father.  
  
“Just let him have it,” his mother had cooed at his father. “He’ll look so nice with a little nip and tuck.”  
  
But the hospital had not been so inviting and the surgeon had been a little too far on the side of frank. “We’ll just peal the skin away,” said the surgeon in a soothing voice, gesticulating with hands unfolding. “Then we’ll insert a bit of silicon and place the skin back over. A nice clean finish.”  
  
Changmin started to hyperventilate.  
  
Yunho grabbed his hand. “You’ll be fine. They’ll put you under and you won’t feel a thing, and before you know it you’ll be waking up. But – “ he gave his hand a little squeeze, “if you want to pull out, now’s the time. There’s no shame in it.”  
  
Changmin’s chin trembled. “I want to look handsome.”  
  
“But you already – “ Yunho cut himself off and his eyes darkened. “You’ll look very handsome.”  
  
*  
  
  
What they’d fail to tell Changmin at the time was that plastic noses don’t last a lifetime. One tired evening with Changmin under the table to unplug his laptop, and with a smack of his face hard against the chair his nose breaks.  
  
Now here he is with the nurse preparing his gas and the anaesthetist tapping his wrist. “Count backwards from one hundred,” someone tells him.  
  
A hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight...  
  
Changmin falls asleep without knowing it, then he’s standing by a window. The world outside is beautiful, the sun itself is a miracle. He smiles serenely.  
  
Across the room the door opens.  
  
He turns.  
  
“Oh hey!” Changmin greets as Yunho walks into the room. He eyes the bouquet in Yunho’s hand and scrunches up his nose. “You got me flowers?”  
  
Yunho doesn’t answer. Yunho doesn’t even spare him a glance as he walks over to the far side of the hospital bed and sits on it.  
  
Changmin frowns. “Yunho-hyung,” he calls.  
  
Nothing. Then Yunho sighs and puts the flowers on the bed and leans over the person’s body lying prone and still in the bed Changmin had occupied. “Hi Changdol,” says Yunho softly. “Seems there was some complication with your surgery and they’ve had to keep you an extra day.” Yunho frowns further, a defined crease forming between his brows. He reaches for the flowers and presents them to the sleeping patient. “But I got you flowers! You’ll probably hate them when you wake up, but I passed by a flower shop and thought of you.”  
  
“Yunho-hyung...” says Changmin softly as he rounds the head of the bed. He’s on the other side of the bed as Yunho and he looks at the body occupying the bed and...  
  
Oh.  
  
It’s himself in the bed.  
  
“Ok...” murmurs Changmin. “An out-of-body experience it is, then.”  
  
“I got you a couple of other things.” Yunho continues to speak to the sleeping Changmin while ghost Changmin watches. Yunho rummages through his man-bag and produces a comb. He leans over Changmin and starts to gently comb Changmin’s fringe with gentle strokes.  
  
Ghost Changmin snorts and smiles in embarrassment, crossing his arms. “So you really can’t hear or see me then, hyung?” Changmin asks loudly. He leans over the bed narrows his eyes, face close to Yunho’s profile. “I like the flowers,” Changmin tells Yunho. Yunho continues to carefully comb Changmin’s lax hair. Ghost Changmin smirks. “I like your chest,” he adds mischievously, “and I want to pinch your bum.”  
  
Yunho leans back a bit and puts the comb back in his bag before pulling out a stick of lip-gloss. He untwists the top and leans over sleeping Changmin once more to carefully swipe it over his lips. “I know you love this brand and shade,” says Yunho conversationally. He leans his head to the side as he carefully gets on with his handiwork. “You keep it in the same spot on your dressing table every day, and when you’re close to running out you go out and buy another one.”  
  
“I like the texture,” Changmin tells him, even though he knows he can’t be heard, “and the taste. And it lasts a little longer than the others.”  
  
Yunho leans back and recaps the lip-gloss. Then he leans over and brushes the back of his fingers against Changmin’s cheek, before tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.  
  
Ghost Changmin stares. Then he reaches a hand to his own cheek and wishes he could feel Yunho’s there instead.  
  
*  
  
  
Changmin lifts a hand to his face and gently touches his nose over the plasters and mask.  
  
Yunho gently takes Changmin’s wrist and pulls his hand away before placing his hand back on the steering wheel. He drives the car around a corner, the hospital disappearing behind them. “Don’t touch it,” Yunho instructs.  
  
Changmin wants to make a petulant face but any facial movement hurts.   
  
“I’ve prepared some cold soup for you so you can eat something when we get home,” says Yunho.  
  
Changmin brightens at the mention of food, then deflates. “I’m so exhausted, all I want to do is sleep.”  
  
“So sleep then, I’ll give it to you when you wake up.”  
  
Changmin narrows his eyes at him. “You’re staying at my place?”  
  
“Yeah, someone has to look after you for a full week.”  
  
“I don’t – “  
  
“Don’t argue, doctor’s orders.”  
  
Changmin does sleep. When he next awakes, it’s five o’clock in the morning.  
  
“Don’t do anything,” grumbles bleary-eyed Yunho as he stumbles into the kitchen in nothing but a long t-shirt. The hem brushes his toned thighs as he walks past Changmin, then brushes up his skin as he opens the fridge and leans over to peer into the lower shelves. The curves of his back side peak from beneath the cotton. Changmin tears his eyes away. “I have cold soup for you.”  
  
“Cold soup on a cold morning?” Changmin asks rhetorically. “How delightful.” He resists touching his face; he’s sure he looks like a swollen blue disaster, and he wishes Yunho didn’t see him like this but it’s far too late now. There was a time when Yunho would have spouts of irritable bowel syndrome and Changmin would watch him run off the stage after a performance, only to head to the backstage bathroom and listen to him moan... There was not a lot Changmin and Yunho had not shared together, all the good, the bad, and the extremely private.  
  
Changmin, drinking his soup through a straw, eyes Yunho’s calcium-plus cereal with added pepita seeds and linseed fibre and God knows what else. “I want some,” Changmin mumbles.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
*  
  
  
Two days later. Changmin and Yunho have been in their pyjamas all day, watching movies and eating ice cream. Yunho sucks on his spoon. “I’m gonna get so fat from this,” he moans.  
  
“I’m not,” says Changmin.  
  
Yunho gets off the couch and heads to the bathroom. An hour later he walks back into the lounge room refreshed and styled and nicely dressed.  
  
Changmin squints up at him with one eye, spoon hanging from his mouth. He knows he looks a right mess and probably smells a bit too, and the juxtaposition of himself in the same room as suddenly-sexy-as-fuck Yunho is making him uncomfortable.   
  
“Where are you going?” Changmin demands.  
  
Now it’s Yunho’s turn to look uncomfortable. “On – on a date.” He clears his throat. “Maybe.”  
  
Changmin narrows his eyes. “How are you ‘maybe on date’..? Oh no.” Changmin widens his eyes as the spoon drops into his lap unnoticed. “You’re going on a date with Taemin.”  
  
“Yeah.” Yunho smooths a hand over his hair and rubs the back of his neck. “He called me the other day and I was supposed to meet him then, but then you had your accident – “  
  
For a horrific moment Changmin contemplates breaking his own nose again in order to make Yunho stay. But then just like a light switching off, Changmin looks at the television screen and decides to do nothing. If Yunho wants to go out with his on-again-off-again-on-again-off-again-on-again-off-again immature brat of a sort-of-but-not-really boyfriend then that was his business. It wasn’t Changmin’s heart being broken...  
  
Only it was...  
  
Scratch that thought. “Have fun, then,” Changmin grunts, ignoring Yunho so hard his nose starts bleeding.  
  
Yunho doesn’t notice, and leaves.  
  
A minute later Changmin turns off the TV and shoots off the couch and heads to the kitchen to make himself something that isn’t fucking soup. He chews on his cold rice and pickled squid and swallows. He stares hard at the bench and sees bread crumbs Yunho didn’t bother wiping away. “This place is dirty,” Changmin mutters to himself.   
  
An hour later Changmin is in full cleaning gear including mask, gloves, plastic apron and hair clips pinning his bangs back. He scrubs down the kitchen first, before moving systematically throughout the house. He vacuums in a frenzy with angry energy, Japanese rock music blaring in the background.  
  
The last room he cleans in the bathroom. For a moment he stares at the toothpaste lying innocently on the sink top, lumpy and squashed and well-used, about half of its contents left to go.  
  
That son-of-a-bitch still squeezes it from the middle. And then like a sudden rip pulling Changmin out to sea he is abruptly and inconsolably furious. He shouts, loud and without words at the stupid toothpaste tube, then swipes his arm violently over the sink and bench, scattering its contents of creams and cleaners and perfumes onto the floor. FUCK HIM, Changmin thinks, seeing red as he yanks open the medicine cabinet and scatters the shelves’ contents onto the sink and floor. He can see that the shelves have never been wiped down in all the time Yunho has lived here, and the dusty, dirty evidence of neglect fuels Changmin’s anger all the more, and he turns the tap on full bawl, followed by the shower. Hot water streams out. Changmin grabs the bucket, empties it of its floor-cleaning liquid contents and fills it with the shower water, then splashes the whole room. He does it again, and again, and it’s cleansing – not just for the room, but for his soul.  
  
*  
  
  
An hour later Changmin is showered and clean and as wrinkly as a prune. He lies on the floor in the lounge room.  
  
Next to his head, his phone rings. It’s Victoria.  
  
He picks up. “I want to get drunk,” he tells her, coming to the decision as sudden as the press of the answer button.  
  
She says, “I’m already drunk. In fact I’m at The Castle Bar with Krystal and Amber. I just thought I’d let you know Yunho is here with Taemin.”  
  
Changmin bolts upwards into a sitting position and blinks several times. “Why would you want me to know something like that?” he demands.  
  
“Because I thought it was weird that he was out without you. Did you guys have a fight or something?”  
  
“No – I – so what? We’re not out together all the time.”  
  
“Yes you are.” She sounds confused. “Are you okay, Changmin?”  
  
“I’m fine,” Changmin lies. “I’m going, bye.”  
  
“Well if you ever want to talk – “  
  
Changmin hangs up. He knows that although she does worry about him sometimes, at least half the reason she sticks her nose into Changmin’s business is so she can spend hours gossiping with Krystal.  
  
But homin shippers like her have their uses, and now he at least knows where Yunho is. After only a split-second hesitation, Changmin jumps to his feet, grabs his keys, shucks shoes on his feet and runs out the door.  
  
*  
  
  
He lurks in the shadow of an alleyway across the street from The Castle Bar, whose windows are long and broad.  
  
Nearby a young woman glances at him warily before doing a double-take. “O-omona, Changmin-oppa!”  
  
“Hi,” he says blandly. He looks her up and down but there’s no real clue as to which celebrity she’s stalking tonight. He does notice the apparatus around her neck, however. “Can I borrow your binoculars?”  
  
She blinks at him several times in shock before stuttering out acquiescence and bowing a lot, while removing the binoculars from around her neck and offering them to him with two hands. He takes them quickly and moves them to focus on the bar’s windows.  
  
Fearless Yunho is visibly sitting at a table with Taemin. They’re both sipping cocktails and chatting and laughing and looking incredibly joyful. Yunho looks especially beautiful, teeth glinting and eyes crinkling at the edges, his shoulders broad and his posture confident. Changmin lowers the binoculars slowly, frowning. There’s a sadness tugging at his heart as he stands there out on the dirty road, in the darkness.  
  
“Thanks,” he says to the stalker fan, passing them back. “Don’t stay out too late.”  
  
He puts his hands in his pockets and bows his head and walks away.  
  
When he gets home he doesn’t go to bed. Too restless with a full heart, Changmin goes to Yunho’s studio room and starts up the computer and keyboard, and makes some music.  
  
*  
  
  
Changmin wakes up at midday.  
  
In the kitchen, Yunho says, “I was getting worried. Thought I’d better wake you up if you weren’t up soon.”  
  
“I wrote a song,” explains Changmin. He yawns. Today Yunho is wearing a long buttoned up shirt and nothing else, and his hair is a mess and he looks flushed and warm and well-kissed. Changmin shifts his eyes away and glares at the microwave. “Is Taemin still here?”  
  
Yunho isn’t surprised by the question. “Nah, he left early this morning.” Then he frowns, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I...” Yunho hesitates, his eyes flicking to Changmin then away again. “I need to ask you a favour.”  
  
Changmin can tell that Yunho is serious. He nods. “Anything.”   
  
“Alright, ahh...” Yunho shifts. “Let’s go to my room.”  
  
Changmin widens his eyes in shock. A pulse of arousal runs through his veins. “Um,” he says, “I don’t want to go to your room; it probably smells like sex.”  
  
Yunho bursts out with a breathy, embarrassed laugh, his whole face transforming from worried to amused. “Your room, then.”  
  
Changmin shrugs, feigning nonchalance. He allows Yunho to lead him into his own bedroom then sits on his bed after a short moment of hesitation. Changmin closes the door, heart thrumming, fully aware that Yunho is naked under that long sleep shirt, that his bare backside is on his doona. “Hyung,” says Changmin softly, “what’s the matter?”  
  
Yunho swallows. “I think I may have a lump,” he tells Changmin quietly. “Can you check for me, please?”  
  
“A lump, where - ?” Changmin cuts himself off as Yunho pops open the first button of his shirt. “Oh.”  
  
“I don’t really trust anyone else with this, Changmin.” Yunho’s voice is soft and a little broken.  
  
Changmin steps forward, then bends over him, right hand going to the next button. His hand is shaking. He shouldn’t be aroused by this – Yunho is clearly afraid of what Changmin might find, but all Changmin can think about his how Yunho is finally allowing him to fondle the soft mounds of his chest. Changmin pops open the next two buttons slowly, and with a rustle of fabric, slips his hand into Yunho’s shirt and touches soft flesh.  
  
Yunho shivers though Changmin knows his palm is warm. He feels around the left pectoral gently, reminding himself that he’s here to feel for something abnormal, not to fulfil some twenty-year-old desire to get his hands on Yunho’s body. He feels Yunho’s nipple peak against his finger as he moves his hand gently around. Changmin dare not breathe. He’s in an awkward position, standing over Yunho, and when he looks down, Yunho looks up.  
  
Their faces are close. Yunho’s mouth is pink and lush and quivering.  
  
“Should I lie down?” Yunho asks softly.  
  
Changmin’s stomach plummets. “Ah, I don’t know. But you should put your arm up.”  
  
“I’ll lie down, then,” says Yunho, doing just that, scooting up the bed a little so Changmin has to lean right over him, bracing himself on the doona with his left hand. The position is even more awkward than before: Changmin has trouble slipping his hand back into the front of the shirt. He could open it completely, or slip his hand under, only that would stop the shirt from hiding Yunho’s modesty.  
  
Changmin opens a couple of the buttons anyway for ease of entry – but not enough for the shirt to fall completely open. Yunho puts his right arm above his head and stares at the ceiling. Changmin massages Yunho’s pectoral gently, Yunho breathing shakily through his nose. Changmin moves his hand over to the next pectoral, under the shirt, and realises he’s hard now, and hope Yunho doesn’t notice. But then he realises that they know each other so well that it’ll probably only take Yunho five seconds to realise Changmin’s aroused – more aroused than he’s been in a long time, if he’s to be honest with himself. Massage unfaltering, Changmin jokes, “Am I supposed to find this a turn-on?”  
  
Yunho laughs softly, but he seems more nervous than anything, swallowing the laugh back down. “I don’t know? Let’s say we are and it’s perfectly normal.” It takes a second for Changmin to process that Yunho had said “we” and not “you”. “So how does it feel?” Yunho asks him.  
  
“Good,” Changmin answers honestly.  
  
Yunho blinks up at him in confusion. “I mean – do you feel any lumps?”  
  
Changmin tries not to blush. “Yeah, but not the cancerous kind. You seem to have lumpy glands but it’s normal.”  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
Changmin gives him a condescending look. “I’ve touched a lot of boobs in my time, hyung. A lot a lot a lot of boobs. But check with the doctor if you don’t believe me.”  
  
Yunho, dark hair fanned over the doona, smiles up at him gratefully. “Thank you Changdol.”  
  
“You’re welcome.” A moment later and Changmin realises he’s still fondling Yunho and Yunho is wiggling, uncomfortable. Reluctantly, Changmin moves his hand away from the pectoral, feeling the taut nipple one last sad time. He leaves his hand in the middle of Yunho’s chest for a moment and asks, “Anywhere else you want me to check?”  
  
“...No.” Yunho hesitates, squirming. “Maybe. But you can say no and I won’t be offended.”  
  
Changmin lifts his eyebrows, intrigued. “Yeah? Where is it?”  
  
“Actually forget it,” Yunho decides, abruptly sitting up. Hand still on his chest, Changmin shoves him back down on the covers again and Yunho goes with a surprised oof.  
  
“Where?” Changmin demands.  
  
“Down,” Yunho gestures vaguely at his crotch before placing his hand back on the bed, bare wrist exposed, “there.”  
  
Changmin holds his breath, pressing his lips together, before sliding his hand down Yunho’s body, over the shirt, then ducking his hand under, brushing Yunho’s inner thigh with his knuckles. He moves his hand to Yunho’s balls and caresses them gently. “Here?” he whispers.  
  
Yunho makes a noise deep in his throat in acquiescence and blinks rapidly at the ceiling. It’s enough permission for Changmin, who cups the sac gently and moves his fingers around, feeling the warm flesh. His mouth waters. Yunho places a hand over his own eyes and exhales shakily with a, “Jesus, Changmin.”  
  
“Feels good to me,” Changmin rumbles.  
  
“Uh-huh,” says Yunho, his voice gone high and needy. “I think that’s enough.”  
  
“I think we should stop bullshitting,” Changmin quips, before moving his hand to Yunho’s length. The groan Yunho makes shoots straight to Changmin’s cock. “Oh, God, fuck it,” Changmin growls, before hastily undoing the rest of Yunho’s shirt and dipping his head right down to take Yunho’s considerable length into his mouth. Yunho jolts and quivers, his heavy cock delicious and hot and wet in Changmin’s mouth, the head sliding over this tongue to the back of his throat. He sucks it down, needy and hungry and enjoying Yunho’s moans above him.  
  
There’s one part of Yunho Changmin has yet to feel. He takes a finger to his hole and massages the ring gently before pushing in. Yunho’s wet and pliant and gives easily. Changmin pulls his mouth and hand away and looks up at Yunho, who has both his hands over his face.  
  
Changmin blinks at him for a moment, before grabbing his thighs and spreading them, pushing them up so Yunho is exposed. His cock is hard and leaking, his balls pulled tight with arousal. And his hole is visible and magnificent. Changmin uses two thumbs to open him up and look inside at the pink flesh. Changmin wants to get in there. God, but he wants.  
  
“I’m going to fuck you,” Changmin tells Yunho, who makes a distressed noise muffled by his hands. Changmin moves away and to his set of drawers, finding the condom box and pulling out a condom and a lubricant sachet. His dick is as hard as ever as he pulls it out of his pants, easily allowing for the condom to roll down and the lube to dribble on.  
  
“Changdol-ah,” says Yunho as Changmin goes on all fours over him, one hand down between them, lining himself up. Yunho doesn’t finish whatever he was going to say as Changmin buries his face in Yunho’s neck, kissing and licking and nipping gently. He pushes into Yunho slowly, Yunho shaking, both of them moaning. Changmin seats himself in easily enough though Yunho is tight, sucking Changmin’s cock in like a vacuum.  
  
“Fuck,” grunts Changmin, “fuck this feels so good.” Changmin changes the angle so he can lean down and pull a nipple between his lips, flicking it with his tongue, then opening his mouth wide so he can fit more flesh into his mouth. He makes love to Yunho with an easy rhythm of his hips, moving his mouth over Yunho’s chest and neck, licking with swipes of his tongue, kissing warm skin and breathing him in through his nose.  
  
“Changdol-ah,” Yunho whispers. Changmin moves his mouth away and looks down into his eyes. He shoves his hips against Yunho’s cheeks as hard as he can, seating himself and stilling, deep, deep inside. “Tell me how it feels,” Yunho requests.  
  
“If feels good, hyung,” Changmin tells him, and Yunho makes a happy noise at the back of his throat. “So, so good, I’ve never felt something this amazing.”  
  
Yunho’s eyes darken with lust. “Good,” he says, “then kiss me.”  
  
Changmin does immediately, dipping down and shoving his tongue right into Yunho’s mouth as his hips start up again, fucking Yunho with deep yet short snaps of his hips. Their kiss is a desperate mess, wet and bruising and loud, each moaning into each other’s mouths.  
  
On a whim Changmin pulls out and flips Yunho over onto his front before stuffing his cock back into Yunho’s hole. Yunho cries out, face to the doona, as Changmin fucks into him with long, hard strokes, pushing Yunho’s shirt up to his shoulders. Changmin has always liked this position, able to watch the dance of muscle under the skin of his lovers’ backs. But Yunho isn’t a woman and his back is different, broad and tanned and beautiful, with a light sheen of sweat. Changmin dips his head down and licks a stripe up his spine, tasting salt and that familiar taste of Yunho, reminiscent of the taste of his cock.  
  
One hand on Yunho’s hip, Changmin reaches down and around and plays with Yunho’s pectorals, pinching this nipple and then the other, listening carefully for the delicious little noises Yunho makes. He moves his hand down to Yunho’s cock and plays with it, enjoying the feel of it again.  
  
Yunho clenches his hole around Changmin cock, and Changmin, with that sudden and overwhelming pulse of arousal, groans, stills, head falling onto Yunho’s back.  
  
“You’re such a tease,” Yunho moans. “More. Harder. I want to come.”  
  
Changmin gathers himself and continues, pulling almost all the way out before pushing in again, fucking him fast and hard. He pulls on Yunho until he’s shaking, then moaning, then silent as he shoves his face into the blanket as he comes all over the doona and Changmin’s hand.  
  
Changmin says, “Ok, I’m just going to – “ then flips Yunho over again before he can recover, draping his whole body over Yunho and Yunho’s legs pushed to his chest – and then he’s snapping his hips, thrusting into Yunho’s tight heat rapidly – then moaning as he comes, Yunho grabbing Changmin’s hair and leaning up for a kiss – their kiss messy and open-mouthed and glorious, oh so glorious…  
  
A moment later Changmin rolls off Yunho. They pant, the clothes they’re still wearing clinging to them.  
  
“Wow,” Changmin huffs. “We should have done that years ago.”  
  
Yunho groans in despair and covers his face with his hands again. “Aigo Changdol-ah, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”  
  
Changmin turns his head to frown at him. “What?”  
  
“I’m sorry for taking advantage of you,” says Yunho, through his hands.   
  
“I – “ What the fuck? “You know what, I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”  
  
“You’re not gay,” Yunho clarifies.  
  
“Ah no, I’m not gay but I like boobs and anal sex. Which you provide quite nicely, so.”  
  
With his face still hidden behind his hands, Yunho says nothing.  
  
Changmin exhales long and loudly, blowing his fringe off his forehead.  
  
*  
  
  
A few days later, fully healed and looking gorgeous as ever even if he does say so himself, Changmin goes the to the SME headquarters and meets up with Taemin outside the recording booth.  
  
With half his band currently doing compulsory military service, Taemin is recording a solo album. He looks pale and old and miserable with stress and lack of sleep.  
  
“What the fuck do you want?” he snaps.  
  
“I want you to stay away from Yunho-hyung,” says Changmin, cutting straight to the point. “He’s sleeping with me now so he doesn’t need your tiny noodle anymore.”  
  
Taemin laughs in his face. “Oh my God. Really?  _Really?_  I never saw this coming, but oh happy day, Choikang Changmin is jealous of me.”  
  
Changmin glares at him. “I’m not jealous. I’m just telling you to back off since all you do is fuck around with him anyway.”  
  
Taemin huffs out an incredulous laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me - _I_ fucked around with  _him?_  Well that’s fucking rich – all I ever wanted was to be his boyfriend and settle down but he never wanted to, always saying, ‘No, I can’t, it’s not right to you,’ blah blah blah blah!”  
  
“What – “ Changmin narrows his eyes, offended. “That’s not like Yunho-hyung at all.”  
  
“Not to you maybe.” Now it’s Taemin’s turn to narrow his eyes. “Bitch, are you blind or stupid or what? He’s been in love with you for like, fifty years or something – “  
  
“We’ve only known each other twenty years – “  
  
“Yeah, like I give a fuck. You two deserve each other.” He turns and opens the booth door – “Bye!” - then slams it in Changmin’s face.  
  
*  
  
  
When Changmin gets home Yunho is in his kitchen cooking. “Hello, Changdol-ah!” Yunho greets. “I made seafood pancake.”  
  
“Yum,” says Changmin, a light inside him blooming, “my favourite.”  
  
“All food is your favourite.”  
  
Changmin laughs, “Yeah,” he says, before hugging Yunho with one arm and giving him a kiss.  
  
They pull away, Yunho smiling sweetly. “What was that for?”  
  
“Let’s get married,” Changmin blurts out. “It’s legal in Japan, now.”  
  
Yunho blinks a little, but his smile stays, and his eyes are affectionate. “Okay!”


End file.
